


Under Skies As Wide As The Horizon

by WondrousWendy



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Body Horror, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Gratuitous Worldbuilding, Kul Tiran Superstitions and Culture, Little Mermaid Elements, Lovecraftian Horror, M/M, Monster Fucker Tandred Proudmoore, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25724554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondrousWendy/pseuds/WondrousWendy
Summary: The heart wants what it wants, even if the object of desire is otherworldly, a supernatural polar opposite in a great ocean of possibilities.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Tandred Proudmoore
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Orphans of the Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is a Little Mermaid Tandred/Flynn AU. I'm going to try to keep the story lighthearted with some drama. It will generally follow the plot of the Little Mermaid but with more depth, hopefully! I don't intend to make Flynn mute, however, because to lose out on that man's charm and banter would be such a shame!

Tandred wakes with a start, as if struck by lightning, with sun-chapped lips pressed to his, refilling his lungs with air. He opens his eyes in shock, and Tandred swears it must be a trick of the sunlight, a mirage, something created by his sea-addled brain, because the sight above him is simply impossible. A man with long chestnut brown hair leans over him, his eyes closed, as he kisses him. Tandred flushes deeply; he has never seen anyone so beautiful, let alone been kissed by anyone.

Yet, something deep inside of him cannot resist this siren’s call. All his life he heard tall tales about those who fell under the spell of the ethereal and unknown, but Tandred feels no fear, only warm pleasure and a strange sense of safety. So Tandred’s eyes flutter closed, but when he tries to thread his hand into those long, wet locks, the man above him jerks back, surprised.

Now, Tandred can get a good look at him. He has tanned skin, wide green eyes, a mustache, and a broad but lean torso that is completely bereft of clothing. Freckles litter his body, like constellations in the night sky, and Tandred reaches out to touch them, causing the man to draw back further.

“W... Where am I?” Tandred acquiesces, his voice groggy, as if he just woke up from the longest nap of his life. His chest feels tight, his hair soaked by the sea and scratchy with flecks of sand.

The man doesn’t reply, instead pursing his brows. He opens his mouth, as if to speak, but he hesitates, refrains. The sun shines through his hair, creating a stunning halo around his face, and droplets of water glimmer in the sunlight. He looks like one of the angels he saw in the stained glass murals in Stormwind’s Cathedral of Light as a young boy. Tandred assumes the worst.

“I’ve died, haven’t I?”

Tandred groans, his eyes shutting closed tightly. Gentle tapping on his face stirs him to reopen them. The man shakes his head quickly, so Tandred sighs and presses a hand to his throbbing forehead.

“Well, maybe not dead, but I sure feel like it.”

Memories of the previous evening run through his head. He remembers standing at the helm of a merchant galleon that was bound for Stormsong until it was caught in a terrible storm as it approached the Shrine. Tandred had urged the captain to take a different route, but being the youngest son of the Lord Admiral came with as many problems as it gave benefits—the captain flat out refused to listen, saying that he was the captain of his own ship, literally and figuratively. That stubborn decision had cost the captain his ship and his men, for the storm and the sea had been ruthless and unforgiving.

“Well, I guess that’s worth something,” Tandred sighs. He sits up on his elbows and runs a hand through his blonde hair, brushing out flecks of sand, and that’s when a glimmer catches his eye.

Resting around the man’s neck and hanging down before his chest is a silver chain with an extremely familiar anchor pendant. Tandred blinks in the daylight, wondering yet again if he’s crossed over into undeath, because that’s undoubtedly Jaina’s necklace. 

“Where did you get that?” He asks, pointing to the necklace. 

Of course, the creature doesn’t respond, and Tandred can’t help but feel a sudden wave of anger and confusion. Katherine may have disowned Jaina, but Tandred still loved her with all of his heart, and to think someone had stolen such a precious thing…

All thoughts stop in their tracks when Tandred looks past the man and pays proper attention to his surroundings with a clearing head. His lips part in a gasp as he takes in the full picture of him. 

“Y-You’re...”

The man in front of him is no mere human—Tandred’s eyes trail past the man’s chest and fall to his waist where two strong fins meet a long tail of beautiful aquamarine scales glittering in the daylight. The man has a bedamned tail!

“You’re... You’re a siren! A merfolk!”

Now the creature draws back as the seafoam waves crest and crash behind him, enveloping his webbed, translucent fin at the end of his tail with seawater. The merman glances apprehensively away from Tandred, eyes drifting to the sea, and Tandred realizes what’s happening. He knows a look of retreat when he sees one. Impulse takes over reason: Tandred reaches out and touches the merman’s muscular forearm, and the creature stills, turning his head to look at him carefully.

“Wait, please! I wasn’t trying to... I wasn’t trying to scare you away. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.” Tandred smiles softly, in awe of the sight before him. “You can understand me. By the Tidemother, you understand Common. Can you talk?”

Many expressions wash over the merman’s face, from fear to tension to hesitation to tentative trust. He seems so very human, even familiar, and yet, the tail says otherwise. Tandred knows he should be cautious; those stories he has heard from other sailors have always held some merit—Tandred well and truly knows sirens exist, he’s seen many a sailor be dragged into the sea after all by their kind, but never has one seemed so... Warm? Kind? Surely the creature could have let the Tidemother embrace him with a cold, merciless end, but this creature saved him and hasn’t seemed keen on eating him whole either. So describing him as human seems less far-fetched.

“My older sister has a necklace just like that one. Do you mind if I…?”

The merman stares at him silently for several moments, fumbling with the anchor pendant, but he nods. Tandred reaches out and turns the pendant over in his fingers, and lo and behold, a small engraving rests embedded in the silver, a single ‘J’. Explaining why the merman has a necklace just like Jaina’s is oddly quite simple. As a young girl, Jaina had lost their father’s gift to her, an anchor pendant just like the one this merman wore. The pendant somehow must have gotten into the sea, into this man’s hands. Jaina of course, being the little admiral princess she was, received another one her next birthday. 

“I can’t believe it. I mean, I suppose your name could start with a ‘J’... Goodness, I’ve been quite rude haven’t I? Demanding you speak, toying with your possessions. We haven’t even been properly introduced. My name is Tandred Proudmoore. Do you have a name?” 

Tandred tries to be genial, the gentleman he was raised to be. He extends his hand. The creature glances from his mouth to his hand, then back up to meet his gaze head on, stealing away Tandred’s breath.

To his shock, the merman takes his hand firmly. The man’s hand is warm, but the fingers aren’t smooth as he expected. There’s webbing in between each finger to allow for ease of swimming, and there’s similarly colored scales on the back of his hand.

“Blimey, never in a million years would I ever believe I’d be shaking hands with a siren.” He laughs sheepishly and finds himself blushing. He can’t help but wonder if he’s already under the merman’s spell, because all he wants in this moment is the creature’s name so he can breathily moan it while he kisses him again—and maybe even more, if he dares think it.

It’s like a jolt of lightning has passed between them, because the merman seems more confident, perhaps even a tad smug. The merman tugs on their joined hands, and Tandred falls forward willingly, pulled into an unexpected embrace.

Tandred waits with bated breath as the creature leans forward, and he prays their lips will meet once more, but the opportunity is stolen from them. A loud bell rings in the near distance, and it sounds like the one in Boralus’s harbor.

Tandred turns and looks past the cove of rocks and sand, and his gut is correct. The merman brought him to shore near the city, but not into the harbor itself.

The creature sighs softly with disappointment. He draws back and points toward the harbor. The sudden lack of warmth leaves Tandred feeling bereft and parched, like a man desperate for water. He knows he’s lost to the madness of indulging whatever this is between them. But the creature seems to have better senses, even helps Tandred collect himself so he looks somewhat more presentable than before, despite his circumstances. Somehow, laying before this marvelous merman highlights the simple biological divide between them. Tandred is a human, and this creature isn’t and therefore cannot follow.

“I’ll leave, but will I ever see you again?”

The creature hesitates, but then he shakes his head. Tandred’s heart shouldn’t sink to the lowest depths of his chest, yet it does, heavy as an anchor.

“Very well,” Tandred says sadly. “I’ll give you my thanks for saving my life. But... if I could beg your forgiveness for just one more act of kindness, then tell me your name. Please, I must know it, else I may yet dive in after you, even at my own risk.”

The merman appears skeptical at first, but then a brilliantly warm smile spreads across his face. He moves over Tandred’s body, closes his eyes, and kisses him. Relief swells throughout Tandred, and this time, the merman allows himself to be embraced tightly, their bodies pressed together at every angle. The kiss is deeper, more passionate than the first, with the merman parting his lips and slipping his tongue in between, and Tandred lets him, for what fool would deny the sea’s bounty? He even lets the creature bite his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and then, and then...

Tandred’s body begins to feel heavy. He sags in the kiss, suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue, and he realizes, distantly, he’s being lowered to the sand again, like a babe being laid to rest. _No,_ he wants to cry out, _don’t go, please don’t go..._

Darkness takes him, and when Tandred wakes again, several hours later on his stomach, face first in the sand, with the sea lapping at his boots, he decides that everything that happened must have been a wild, pleasant dream. An alternate, better version of reality, because merfolk—sirens, as they should be rightfully called—do not mercifully save his kind from the sea, and they certainly do not shower their prey with gentle kisses.


	2. Friends On the Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, but Flynn finds himself unable to let go of the memory of the human he saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you'll see, a few new tags have been added. This chapter features some explicit but brief body horror. As Ursula tells Ariel, you can't get something for nothing, and Flynn has to pay a price if he wants to see his prince again.

Flynn should have damn well known better than to save the dying human from the clutches of the sea. Since that fateful day when he rescued the human, talked with him, and even kissed him, Flynn has been unable to shake him off. Flynn may have kissed him goodbye and injected venom into his veins to make him drowsy, but it seems as though Flynn himself is unable to move on and forget. Even as the days cycle, Flynn cannot forget the man’s handsome features: the sapphire blue of his eyes, the way the sun shone through his hair, the shy, nervous smile, the salty taste of his lips...

As long as he can remember, Flynn has always been interested in the humans and their vast world beyond the sandy, rocky shores. He has sat upon rocks and watched the bustling movement of people and ships. Staring from afar has always filled his heart with paradoxical terror and desire. He felt terrified because something about the land and its people seemed familiar and right to him, but this was simultaneously impossible; all Flynn had ever known of life was the sea. Yet, he yearned to learn everything he possibly could about the humans and their world. He even picked up their language after listening in on sailors in the harbor or while ships traveled across the sea. He collected trinkets and baubles, artifacts he treasured dearly and stored in his little home, a grotto nestled in the reef off of Tiragarde’s northern coast.

Flynn lived a safe and comfortable life. He never struggled to find food, his home was away from fishermen and ocean predators, and he was lucky enough to have room to store his relics. Yet, journeying from his grotto to various shipwrecks across the ocean floor made for a rather lonely life. Up above the surface on dry land, humans did all manner of activities, bonding with one another, from dancing to running to getting into personal battles with another human to raising families. Watching them from afar filled his heart with such curiosity and desire, yet to even come near a human typically spelled doom for his kind.

Sirens, which were more akin to animals than anything else, were not the same as merfolk, even if the humans chose to conflate the two. Humans killed sirens and merfolk all the same. Little did they know that sirens wouldn’t refrain from pulling naive merfolk under their sway to later eat them too. Tragically, the merfolk of the sea were nearly extinct, or at very least, the vast majority of them had been so monstrously contorted by The Voice Below that they no longer resembled their original selves. Flynn didn’t dare go to the darkest depths of the ocean, even if he felt a terrible pull to join his kin in collective destruction.

And yet... and yet. As days pass following the encounter with the human, Flynn can’t help but wonder if perhaps there may be some value in diving into those dark depths to answer the questions that have been whispered into his head since he last saw the human he had saved.

 _Do you not long to be at his side?_ The voice asked one day while Flynn lay on the soft, still sands of his grotto. _Do you not long to see him again? To have him remember you and rejoice at your return?_

Flynn can’t deny feeling tempted, just as he cannot forget the brilliance of Tandred Proudmoore. Oh, how Flynn wants to kiss him endlessly, to press him into the sand and explore his human anatomy. He wants to dance with Tandred to lively music as he had seen humans do aboard their galleons. He wants to learn more about Tandred and what he thought of sailing and he even wants to know about his sister whose name started with the ‘J’ on his necklace.

Flynn tries to move on, but finds himself increasingly unable, haunted by the human. His dreams are plagued with what it would be like to reunite to indulge in fantasies about human existence he barely understands. He grows agitated, restless, pushed and pulled at from all sides as the current of this desire threatens to consume him. Looking at his collection of trinkets fills him with painful longing.

Eventually, the whispered voice in his head convinces him to journey into the deeps. He can’t take the agony of being a merman any longer. He knows doing this could result in him being killed, or worse, twisted beyond belief, but desperation ignores all warnings. He knows that Tandred won’t remember him, may not ever come to care for his existence, but Flynn knows he has to see him again. He doesn’t know where to go consciously, but his body seems to know what direction to swim as the light begins to die the further down he goes. He can see into these depths to some extent, but he’s still afraid, uncertain, wondering if he’s making a huge mistake.

Flynn finds himself at the mouth of a small cave that seems to wind on and on forever in darkness. Eventually, he approaches a dim light, and hesitantly, he peers around to see if anyone is here.

“Do come in little one,” a charming feminine voice calls to him, “I’ve been expecting you.”

Flynn swims into the wider alcove and finds himself face to face with someone infamous he has heard of greatly—Queen Azshara, the ruler of the Naga, of Nazjatar, and the primary instigator of nearly wiping out his kinfolk.

The Queen waits for him by a large scrying manapearl, her eight tentacles swaying gently with the mild current and her six arms folded across her adorned leather corset. Two electric eels wrestle near the alcove’s edge, mutually tugging on what Flynn assumes is their rather bloody dinner. Glowing crystals light the small grotto, casting shadows around the rocks jutting up from the ground below. The area is littered with magical tomes, phials of various shapes and sizes, and strange bejeweled relics that Flynn finds himself uncomfortable to stare at for too long, as if the gems are blinking eyes watching his every move.

“Welcome to my laboratory. Do pardon my mess, I was simply getting prepared for your arrival.”

Flynn purses his brows, his arms pimpling with gooseflesh. “How could you be expecting me?”

“I’ve heard much about you Flynn from our mutual friend.”

Flynn’s heart stops cold in his chest. If she’s... if she’s referring to... The Voice From Below was certainly _not_ his friend. Their relationship was merely of convenience. A means to an end.

“I hear you lust after a human. What a terrible pity; humans are so young on this planet, so empty-headed and violent.”

Azshara waves her hand, and the manapearl begins to glow brightly, with a moving image of Tandred at the helm of a ship, with his shoulder-length blonde hair swaying in the wind.

“Though, I suppose he’s handsome, isn’t he? For a human, of course. They are so easy to sway and so driven by their basest, most carnal desires.” Flynn blushes, and Azshara laughs. “Ah yes, I’m sure that’s what you seek. After all, you’ve come to strike a deal with me.”

Flynn bristles and tries to hold his ground. “Full offense, I’m not sure I want to make a deal with the conqueror who slaughtered and twisted my people.”

Azshara seems to find the accusation quite humorous; she laughs darkly, and even her two eels manage to snicker cruelly at Flynn.

“You simply have me all wrong, darling. Your people yet live within my kingdom, didn’t anyone tell you?”

As if to prove her point, Azshara glances to her scrying pearl, waves her sharp fingers once more, and then Flynn sees a thriving city so similar and yet so different from the human city of Boralus.

“Yes, they look different from you now, but only because they asked to be changed. My prowess with magic is unrivaled, and I have powerful allies. They knew I could help them embrace the sea’s gifts and aid them in their quest to command their true natures. They wanted the opposite of what you crave. They were so eager to forsake any resemblance to the landwalkers above, and can you blame us? Landwalkers kill your kind without remorse or hesitation. They find you beautiful, they fall under the spell of your songs, but their professed love for you remains only skin deep. They can’t help themselves, their eyes and hearts deceive them even as their minds tell them to run.”

Flynn suddenly feels small, shrunk down with Azshara’s chastising of human tastes. Could Tandred come to love him if, as a human, he’s found to be plain? Tandred at least didn’t hear his voice, but Flynn knows he’s nothing like the graceful merfolk the humans speak of in their shanties.

“Not getting cold fins, I hope?”

“N-No... I...”

“Good, good. I can help you all the same despite your rude tongue.”

Flynn can’t believe he’s still here, listening to this. Yet, he remains still, with selfish desire waging war with skepticism in his heart.

“Forget whatever you have heard from that fool Neptulon and his sort. The people of Nazjatar love their queen as I love them. Anyone can see for themselves how happy my people are. The sea is better united together against the encroaching empires of landwalkers.”

Flynn doesn’t know what to believe. He knows he shouldn’t trust Azshara, but doesn’t like feeling this vulnerable, so exposed before someone like her. Whatever Azshara may believe about him, he’s not stupid. He knows there’s a catch.

“What would you want in exchange? You said this was a deal, after all. You can’t have something for nothing. Name your price.”

Flynn knows he has little he could give to appease a ruler like Azshara. Yet, he would give practically anything; he doesn’t want Azshara to know that.

“It isn’t much, just a trifle, really—you see, it’s rather fitting. The leader of the landwalkers... She has an artifact of mine.”

Flynn blinks, and the scrying orb presents an image of a small box that has carvings embedded into its sides, with a black pearl beneath the clasp to open it.

“What is that?”

“You may think me a conqueror and a witch, but I have some sentimental scales left on my body. It’s called a music box.”

“You’ll make me human, in exchange for a little box?”

“You seem rather adept at finding treasures, Flynn,” Azshara smirks, and her red eyes sparkle with mischief. “Are you not up to the task?”

Flynn knows he should weigh the offer with more earnest thought, but having found himself so tantalizingly close to what he desires, almost all rational thought has been cast aside.

“You’re telling me you truly want _nothing_ else? There’ll be no other conditions on being human, right? I’ll keep my voice, my legs’ll stay solid forever, and I won’t turn into an octopus one day out of the blue...”

“You can keep everything about yourself, little one. I have no need for your physical characteristics. I especially have no need for your voice.” Azshara laughs dismissively. “Live among the landwalkers as you please, but to make the effects of this spell permanent, you will need him to confess his undying love for you before the sun sets three days from now. Otherwise, it will wear off and you will transform back into a helpless merfolk, flopping around like a dying fish on land.”

Azshara moves closer to him, enveloping Flynn into the tangle of her many inky-blue limbs.

“And then there’s the matter of my payment. On the morning of the third day, one of my agents will find you and will expect you to hand over the music box.” One of her hands slide around his neck, holding Flynn in place. “Failure to do so will result in... _unpleasantness,_ to say the least.”

“Why not just have your agent get the box on their own? Why make a deal with someone like me?”

Azshara tuts softly. “I have my reasons, little one. You should think wisely before asking any further questions.” Her claws scrape at his neck, and a chill runs down his spine. “A queen’s patience has its limits, after all.” A pause, and then her lips press into his ear. “Delivery of the music box, and in exchange, you’ll have your man—if you can charm him into falling in love with you. Now, do we have a deal?”

Flynn came here knowing he’d give anything. The terms of the deal are straightforward enough. He's desperate, and Azshara knows it.

“Yes, we do.”

Without hesitation, Azshara begins to draw arcane power through each of her hands. Flynn can feel the sudden surge in power behind him, but before he can move, Azshara’s eight tentacles wrap tightly around his smaller frame and lock him into place, with each of her countless suckers latching onto various positions across his body.

Suddenly, Flynn senses a third presence in the small alcove as all of the crystal lights go out. Unable to move, unable to struggle, Flynn finds himself growing terrified, wondering if he’s made a terrible mistake. Then, in the pitch darkness, Flynn sees two empty, glassy red eyes staring at him. Somehow, he knows exactly what— _who_ —is there in the alcove, giving aid to Azshara’s magic.

Flynn thrashes wildly in Azshara’s grip as he feels his tail begin to split apart, rupturing down the middle until his lower half contorts into two human legs. Bones snap into place, muscles bend and align, and his nerves burn with overstimulation. His once agile limbs start to feel heavy, awkward and wrong in too many places. A terrible rush of pain floods down his spine and in his chest as The Thing From Below redesigns his body from the inside out.

_Let go... Let go..._

Flynn opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Water floods his lungs, and suddenly without gills, Flynn finds himself drowning, helpless against the blinding, immeasurable pain and the tentacles holding him in place.

“Hush now, little one,” Azshara murmurs, a note of empathy in her sinister voice, “it will all be over soon.”

Flynn’s vision begins to blur, his hearing turns to static, and he fears he has made a fatal mistake. The voice in his head repeats its chant as darkness consumes his vision, leaving his fate in the hands of the sea witch and her monstrous ally.


	3. A Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn wakes up on the beach with something he always wanted but thought he would never have: legs.

Seagulls caw loudly in the distance, stirring Flynn from his fitful slumber. He opens his sand-crusted, tired eyes and winces immediately from the harshness of even the most dim daylight. He groans deeply and lies still on his sore stomach. 

The gentle pitter-patter of rain falls onto his back, with water pooling and sliding down over his ribs. He feels like he was a shark’s dinner, chewed up and spit out. He’s cold, so cold, shivering like he’s journeyed too far north to the icier waters. 

An insistent nudge to the ribs causes him to force his eyes open. He blinks drearily and looks around him, expecting to find a seagull poking at him, but instead, Flynn sees a human woman standing over him with a worried expression on her face. 

Flynn yelps and scrambles to return to the sea, causing the young woman to jump back in shock. 

Flynn finds his movements are clumsy, uncoordinated, like a fish out of water. There’s too many limbs, too much heavy, dead weight near his... near his legs. His human legs. 

Suddenly all thoughts stop as Flynn settles onto his quite human rear and stares down in awe at the two long tanned legs he finds. He stretches his right, bends it at the knee, and finds himself grinning like a madman when he can wiggle his toes. The tide comes toward him, rushing past his body, running along his legs, and the sensation of having water run over flesh is so different from how it felt against scales. He kicks at the water like a child, digs his toes into the sand, and his face hurts from smiling so hard. There’s a faint dusting of hair on his legs! And there’s even some chestnut hair around his abdomen! Goodness, it’s everywhere! Flynn can’t help but laugh hard. 

“Blimey, humans are so hairy, aren’t they!” He says out loud. 

“Uhm... I guess? Tides, are you alright, sir?” 

Flynn stops laughing and turns his head toward the woman who woke him. She has short black hair, soft green eyes, and she wears heavy clothes—armor, he corrects. He’s seen some of the humans aboard ships wear such dastardly clunky suits, and he always wondered why anyone would wear something that could sink so easily aboard a ship on the sea. Yet, she’s on dry land, and he knows humans are squishy, easy to kill if stabbed or bitten, or so he’s heard from predatorial sirens. 

Flynn opens his mouth to speak, but only hot air comes out.

The woman shoves a piece of clothing into his hands, a long coat. “Cover yourself up mate you’re as naked as the day you were born!”

The situation dawns on him. Humans have conventions and standards. Flynn takes the offered brown coat and smiles sheepishly. 

“Uhm, guess I lost my clothes when I uh... Tripped and fell overboard?” 

That’s what happens to humans right? They somehow manage to stumble their way into the ocean on accident. 

“Yes. I fell. Off a ship. A big one!” Flynn gestures widely with his hands to show the size of the imaginary boat. “There was a storm and this big monster appeared out of the sea, and I was wrestling it, you see, but it’s big meaty claws must have snagged my clothes and tore them clean off, so I fell into the sea like this.” 

The woman blinks down at him with complete stark confusion. So Flynn starts nodding. 

“I know! Crazy, right?” Flynn scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. “Strange things do happen on the sea, don’t they?” 

“Right... Well, uhm, anyways... You sound a bit out of sorts. You’re not drunk are you?” 

“Drunk?” 

“Yes. Are you?” 

“Uhm. No?” 

She doesn’t seem convinced. She rolls her eyes, covers her face with her palm, and shakes her head. 

“Cyrus doesn’t appreciate having drunkards in the harbor, so I think you better come with me.” She reaches out and offers her hand. “Mind telling me your name?” 

Flynn understands this gesture! He takes the hand happily and starts to shake it with gusto. 

“Call me Flynn!” 

“Right. Flynn... What?” 

“Oh, uhm...” 

Right. Tandred had a second name. Humans all have two names. Typically the combination of two words. Proud and Moore, but he can’t use those, they’re taken! His gaze darts around the harbor with as much subtlety as possible. He sees a sign talking about fares for a ferry. Fairferry sounds downright stupid and simply won’t do. 

“Flynn Fair...” He looks across the harbor to a ship emblazoned with gilded text on the hull called the _Wind’s Redemption_. Yes, it’s so simple! How couldn’t he have thought of it before? “...Wind.” 

“Flynn Fairwind,” she says, her brow arched skeptically. “That’s your name?” 

“Y-Yes. Flynn Fairwind, a pleasure. And you are?” 

“Taelia Fordragon. The harbormaster’s squire.” 

Taelia tugs on their joined hands and Flynn tries to figure out how this whole standing thing works. He wobbles at the knees, sways on the balls of his feet—goodness, he has feet!—and thanks to Taelia’s help, he manages to stand for the first time ever. 

“Wow. Amazing.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Flynn laughs nervously. “Oh. Uhm. You know.” 

“No? I don’t?” 

“Uh... You know... standing. Feels great after lying about for a while.” 

“Huh... Okay. Well, Mr. Fairwind, I’m going to need you to keep that coat pulled tight around you. Don’t want to have to arrest you for even more disorderly conduct.” 

“Of course, I understand. Wouldn’t want anyone to see anything improper.” 

Taelia gestures for him to follow after her. As they begin to walk, she asks, “Are you some kind of nutter?” 

“Pardon?” He responds, distracted. 

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re some kind of lunatic, if you’re drunk out of your mind, or if you’ve been cursed by a sea witch.” 

“Cursed by a sea witch? W-Why, that’s crazy!” Flynn says nervously. “I’m most certainly a normal human man.” 

Taelia stops and looks at him completely flummoxed. “...Which is what a totally ‘normal’ human being would say.” 

“Yes. Exactly! You understand.” Flynn smiles brilliantly. “I knew you would.”

As they start to walk away from the shore, up a flight of stairs to the docks, Flynn sees people moving chests of coins from the dock onto a ship. 

Then it dawns on him. 

Flynn tilts his head and asks, “Say, Lady Fordragon, would it be possible if you could spare a few of those golden coins you lot use?“ 

“So you’re drunk and homeless and now a beggar. What are you going to use the coins for? More ale? You must be joking.” 

“No, no, not for ale. I need proper clothes to cover this,” he gestures to his body. “Can’t go out and about looking like a crab without its shell.” 

Taelia shakes her head, but he manages to get a chuckle out of her. She pulls Flynn along through the harbor, where they weave through the masses of sailors, merchants, and even some finely dressed nobles. 

The sights, sounds, and smells of the harbor take Flynn’s breath away. Though it may be a dark and dreary day, people still go to and fro around the docks, doing business, talking, arguing, and laughing. Some seagulls fly above them, others sit perched in various places watching the crowds below, honking. The air is salty, even rank with the smells of sweat, fish, and kelp, but it’s everything he longed to experience and more—he’s seen scenes like this from afar seated upon rocks, and he longed to be here, walking among people. 

Flynn finds himself stopping here and there to look at small merchant stands. Some sell the catch of the day, and Flynn cringes seeing fish on display for humans to eat (he hopes some of them weren’t his friends!). Others sell strange trinkets and colorful jewels and would appreciate a gift when they meet again. 

With Tandred on the mind, Flynn tugs on Taelia’s green scarf gently, and she turns to address him. 

“What now, Mr. Fairwind?” 

“Where are you taking me, by chance?” 

“I’m stopping by Cyrus’s office to pick up some clothes for you.” She sighs. “Then, I was thinking about taking you to one of the healers in the city.”

“No, no. I assure you I’m quite fine and don’t need to see a healer. I’m starting to manage better now. See? Legs are in working order!” He clears his throat and then asks, “Instead, after I pick up some clothes, do you think you could take me to someone? I promise to be out of your hair after.” 

“Depends. Who exactly do you need to see?” 

“Tandred Proudmoore!” 

Taelia stops walking abruptly, causing Flynn to stumble. “Pardon me? Did you just say Tandred Proudmoore?” 

Flynn nods. 

“You want to see the Lord Admiral’s youngest son, Tandred Proudmoore.” 

“Yes. Precisely.” 

“Now I’m starting to think you’re the world’s worst assassin.” 

“No, no!” Flynn stammers and raises a hand in defense while still holding the coat closed. “Nothing of the sort whatsoever. Listen, me and him we’re... we’re old mates. Friends. He’ll know me.” 

“To be honest Mr. Fairwind you’re not the first person I’ve taken into custody who has claimed to be an old mate of the Lord Admiral or her children.” 

“Please, you have to understand...” 

He wants to add, _I only have three days to get him to fall in love with me._

“I know much of what I’m saying sounds downright strange, but you have to believe me. I need to see him. It’s urgent.” 

Flynn tries to sound strong, tries to keep his voice from wavering, but it’s hard when the odds seem stacked against him. The city of Boralus is huge. He doesn’t know how he’ll find Tandred on his own. Should’ve asked for Azshara to drop him in his lap, too. 

Yet, perhaps not all hope is lost. Flynn starts to thank his lucky stars silently as Taelia loosens her grip on him and appears to take pity on his plight. She smiles half-heartedly and shrugs. 

“Look. You’ve been out in the rain for Tidemother knows how long on that beach. Why don’t we go inside Cyrus’s office. I’ll put on a fire, you can get changed, and then I’ll point you in the Keep’s direction and you can be on your way. How does that sound?” 

“That sounds quite helpful. Thank you, Lady Fordragon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the story so far, please leave a comment! For updates on future chapters, you can check out my twitter @W0ndrousWendy!


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